


Maybe... Definitely

by orangefriday



Category: Smosh
Genre: Fluff, Humour, M/M, One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-09
Updated: 2011-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23058148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangefriday/pseuds/orangefriday
Summary: One morning, Ian woke up with a single thought: I'm gay. Maybe.
Relationships: Ian Hecox/Anthony Padilla, Ian Hecox/Melanie Moat
Kudos: 1





	Maybe... Definitely

Maybe.  
  
He'd been thinking about it, about being attracted to other men. He often found himself comparing men to other men. Usually Anthony because he was constantly there and Ian wasn’t going to deny the allure Anthony had. It was odd Anthony hadn’t found a new girlfriend since his last one a few months ago. Sometimes he'd see someone and look over at Anthony, drawing the similarities and the differences. He would think who had the better face, or the better waist, or who might look better naked.  
  
When he watched movies, or television, he would lean in close to Anthony, looking from the screen to his friend. Who was more attractive? Did the tight muscles on screen look better than the angular dip of Anthony's jaw? Or what about those Bowflex commercials that made Ian laugh and stare at his own too soft belly? Did he want those men to wrap their big hands around him and touch skin where little or no light has ever been?  
  
He didn't know. Only shrugged because he _did_ dream of hands sometimes, in bed, in the shower and even when he fell asleep on the couch, caressing the curves of his ass and sliding down the length of his cock. He knew those hands weren't female hands because they were always sure and strong and thick with desire pulsating until he didn't know if it was him or the other. Ian would come all over himself just thinking of a flat chest pressed against his backside, wet and slick, and a scruffy chin digging into the crook of his neck.  
  
Ian sucked in a deep breath, never having felt so satisfied and incredible after a good hot shower.  
  
For a while he let the taste of it sink into his tongue, mouthing it silently as he watched Anthony rummage through the fridge, his butt sticking out. He imagined the response from his friend; coffee eyes widening in surprise and mouth gaping. He imagined it would warrant a million questions about his past relationships, about his present relationship with Melanie and if Anthony truly felt uncomfortable, about their own relationship.  
  
But he shook his head and smiled when Anthony settled with last night’s pizza, throwing a few pieces into the microwave for the both of them.  
  
Ian called Melanie a few weeks later, finding his sudden realization that he might just be gay wanting to come out. They talked about things, about how Jersey was and how hot California was getting. Then they talked about how long they hadn’t seen each other and Ian didn’t feel the need to jump on the next plane and go see her. He missed her, as a friend, and she seemed just fine with herself across the country.  
  
They didn’t talk about where their relationship was heading because everything was so comfortable for now. It almost felt like it wasn’t there since they weren’t even physically together. She had no problem relaying all the times guys had asked her out and the times she would hang out with her friends and with other guys. He didn’t feel jealous at all, only interested and only made jealous comments because he felt obligated to.  
  
Ian thought if he decided he was really gay, Melanie wouldn’t be too heartbroken.  
  
So he kept thinking about it. He kept imagining what it would be like to be an openly gay man. What did it mean to be gay anyway? Would he have to change the way he talked, or what he talked about? Would his friends expect him to suddenly be into Cher or Celine Dion? Did he have to dress in pink and defend his fellow gay men? Would they expect him to hump every person with a penis? He thought of all the stereotypical baggage attached to being gay and banished them. That wasn’t him at all.  
  
Besides he never really went _looking_ for other men. If someone caught his eye, he’d take a longer look, hold the gaze and see what it meant. Most of the time, it was just Ian being silly and reading too deep into a stranger’s eyes. Anthony would nudge his arm when he dazed off and he’d stare back at the smirk and questioning gaze, feeling foolish all of a sudden. He’d ask what Ian was staring at and Ian would turn his head to the stranger who, at that time had taken his thoughts, and decide he wasn’t interested after all. Ian would tell Anthony it was nothing and they would continue on walking, shoulders bumping against each other once in a while.  
  
His heart would quicken during those times and a warmth would spread over his arm. Maybe he was afraid Anthony would notice what he was thinking about.  
  
He called Melanie more often, liking the familiarity of her voice and the way she called him babe. Though, it didn’t carry the same feelings it did a long time ago. It was just something he liked and expected from her. And it slipped off of her tongue freely without thought.  
  
When he had dared, he had asked her what she felt about being gay, or gay people in general. He imagined her shrugging as she said she didn’t see them as different people, only an extension of who they are. Ian smiled widely at the thought to himself, feeling his hands shake and clam up. Maybe he would tell her soon.  
  
But he would do that once he was sure. It was selfish, yes, but he wanted to be truthful with her. He loved her still, cared for her and thought about her like he thought about Anthony. She was one of his best friends.  
  
So he kept on thinking. He thought so much that sometimes Ian would find himself staring blankly at the computer screen, no script written after a half hour of just _thinking_. He would list all the things that pointed to him being straight; he liked Melanie, dated girls, breasts were nice and there was something about the way their long legs moved that turned Ian on. Then he would think of men; of the wide shoulders, the deep musky voices and Anthony’s bed head that he imagined smelled like the citrus shampoo they shared.  
  
And for the next few days, every chance that Ian got, he would sniff at Anthony, trying to catch his scent. The citrus was there but mixed in with this other sweet warm smell that melted down Ian’s throat. He wondered what it was as he leaned over one night while editing a video. Anthony’s shoulder jerked upwards unexpectedly and bumped hard into Ian’s nose, leaving the centre of his face stinging and the corners of his eyes to blur with tears.  
  
Ian got a nosebleed after that and as Anthony held his face in his hand, apologizing profusely while laughing and forcing tissues over his nose, Ian got a good hard look into those eyes.  
  
And his heart, so suddenly, jumped right out of his chest and spilled forth in front of him.  
  
He liked Anthony.  
  
Ian liked him.  
  
Definitely.  
  
The sudden realization struck hard, like Anthony’s shoulder and left him completely breathless. The hand on his nose and the fingers cradling the back of his neck as he was instructed to tilt his head back burned his skin.  
  
Shit.  
  
He liked Anthony.  
  
Maybe?  
  
No, definitely.  
  
Yes, definitely, as he felt Anthony’s breath flutter over his cheek, warm and velvety as he checked if the blood had stopped. Anthony’s words of concern hummed over Ian’s ears and vibrated his very being, mixing with the new awareness of everything Anthony-related.  
  
For sure, as Ian licked his lips, looking out of the corner of his eye as Anthony wiped the remains of burgundy off his face.  
  
The hands balled up the tainted tissues and Ian recognized those very hands. They were the ones that appeared in his half-awake lustful fantasies. The ones that ran all over his body and gripped his hot sweaty skin in his dreams. Ian swallowed hard, fearful of this new understanding but curious too.  
  
Curious as Anthony stared back, chocolate-hazel eyes sparkling in question and patchy red cheeks stretching in an apologetic smile. Ian had to look away lest Anthony realize that not only was his nose bleeding, but his whole body felt too full with blood as well.  
  
Ian’s alright, maybe, as his friend moved out of the room to throw away the blood-soaked tissues. His pained nose beat in time with the erratic pounding of his heart and the air felt thicker than warm water. Ian could hardly breathe.  
  
And all night and all day after that, he found himself mouthing the words I like you silently to Anthony’s back. He did it without sound but it was so loud in his head, it was all he heard and thought about it.  
  
He’d have to tell Melanie then.  
  
The phone in his hands as he pressed firmly on the call button. The ringing not loud enough to drown out his thoughts of I like Anthony, I like him, I like him, I like him.  
  
Hell, he might as well love Anthony too.  
  
Ian chuckled to himself nervously, waiting for an answer, finding the thought of being gay scared him less than the feeling of liking Anthony.  
  
When she picked up, they talked for a while about nothing as Ian sat on the floor of his room in the dark. The whole time, many times, Ian would back out of saying it. He had only whispered it wordlessly and saying it with sound was ten times harder.  
  
Eventually, she was silent and Ian had never loved her as much as he did at that moment. Because even though they were three thousand miles apart, she could sense his very thought.  
  
He didn’t tell her he was gay, of course. He didn’t even tell her he liked Anthony. But they had somehow come to an agreement that friends were the right choice for them. Anything more seemed unnecessary.  
  
Ian was relieved for one second and then Anthony entered his room, hair completely dishevelled and face scrunched up with tired sleep. Anthony looked concerned, somehow.   
  
And Ian was back in that shower, heaving hot breath as slippery skin slid against his own. Oh and the way those hands kneaded the muscles of his hips. It sent him to limitless heights.  
  
“W-What’s up?” Ian asked, gulping and hanging up. He didn’t even say good-bye to Melanie and Ian hoped she wouldn’t be too mad when he called her back later. He wasn’t in his right mind.  
  
“Were you talking to Melanie?” he asked, stifling a yawn. Anthony stretched, the hem of his too small shirt rising up to reveal milky white. It shone bright in the darkness and Ian swallowed his feelings down again, hugging his knees to his chest and glaring at his toes.  
  
“Y-Yeah, How…” Ian took in a deep breath and looked up at Anthony, “How did you know?”  
  
Anthony shrugged and sat down beside him at the foot of the bed. His warmth reverberated through Ian and he caught himself just in time before sinking into Anthony’s side.  
  
“Your door’s wide open, idiot,” he said quietly, “I can hear everything.”  
  
“Oh…” Ian nodded, a little distracted when Anthony’s hand covered his knee. If only it went a little lower, if it could smooth over his thigh and right down to his –  
  
“Did you two break up?”  
  
“H-huh? Wha-?”  
  
Anthony moved his head until they were face to face. He peered at him with questioning brows and the beginning of a frown. “I overhead you talking.”  
  
“Ah… yeah…” Ian confirmed and smiled a little sheepishly. He moved his knee tentatively until it pressed onto Anthony’s side.  
  
“You alright, man?” he asked and if Anthony could lean any closer, he did. “What happened?”  
  
Ian shrugged, a little flabbergasted at the sight of that hand, touching fabric that was touching his skin. He wished he wasn’t wearing any pants.  
  
“Did she meet someone else?” Anthony asked, maybe a little angry, Ian didn’t know. His breaths were coming out short when Anthony shook the knee in his hand. “Is that why? Ian? You can tell me, bro.”  
  
“Hm? Uh… what?” Ian felt a blush creep over his ears and into the apples of his cheeks. Was the room hot or was it just him? It was only April and the nights were usually cool enough.  
  
“Dude, you look really upset,” Anthony said and pulled Ian up. His hands were really sweaty and Ian hoped Anthony didn’t notice or wasn’t too disgusted by the wetness. “Do you want to go somewhere? We can go get a drink. It’s not too late.”  
  
“Uh…” Ian should probably say more but his heart hammering in his ears didn’t help with coherent thought. When had he become so speechless around Anthony?  
  
Probably because Anthony was still holding his hand and waggling it to get his attention.  
  
“Ian?”  
  
He looked from their intertwined hands to Anthony’s worried expression. His vision moved from the tip of Anthony’s tight neck, slid across the stubbled chin and then finally, to those expressive deep brown eyes that made Ian lose all sense of his surroundings.  
  
Gah, he _liked_ Anthony.  
  
“Ian, you alright? What’s the matter?”  
  
His knees felt weak and he almost laughed outwardly at the cliché but it was true. The part where Anthony’s hand had touched just moments ago, stinging waves of shocks.  
  
And he felt like he was falling. Not down, but falling _into_ something. Maybe it was ‘love’ or infatuation or maybe he was just falling into Anthony. But nevertheless, he was falling steadily and quick. His mind was an array of colours and emotions and thoughts and wishes.  
  
“Ian? You don’t look so good.”  
  
He gazed hard at Anthony and Ian was spinning so fast in everything that he didn’t even notice his mouth opening and producing words.  
  
“I’m gay.”  
  
_Fuck._  
  
The room was suddenly silent and Anthony’s grip on Ian’s hand disappeared. Ian was back on two feet, the overwhelming realization bursting clear into his previously delusional mind.  
  
_Fuck, fuck, fuck!_  
  
Anthony’s tentative voice pushed away any leftover bleariness. “W-what?”  
  
Ian clamped a hand over his mouth so hard he winced at the self-inflicted pain. Ian expected Anthony to look horror stricken, or disgusted, but something about the almost placid expression settled Ian.  
  
“I said…” Ian started, lowering his hand and fidgeting, “that I’m gay …maybe.”  
  
Anthony’s lips became tight and he put two hands on his hips. “Oh…” He nodded and stared at Ian’s bed. An odd quiet settled around them but Ian’s mind was bustling with panic. “That’s why you and Melanie…”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
They both nodded.  
  
“A-Ah, this is fucked up, isn’t it?”  
  
“Oh! No!” Anthony almost yelped, his hands in front of him and looking like they wanted to grab Ian. He wished those hands were just a little closer. “It’s not. It’s not fucked up. Er… when did you…?”  
  
Ian’s face was really hot and he stuttered, “I don’t know… I’m not really sure actually.”  
  
“What? What do you mean?” Anthony asked, curiously, and sat down slowly onto Ian’s bed. Ian stayed standing, a little afraid what would happen if they were side by side… in bed. But he wasn’t going to ignore the fact that he wanted to sit beside Anthony _really_ bad.  
  
Shit, what did he just _do?_  
  
“Um…” Ian sighed, the words so difficult and nowhere in sight. “I mean that… I mean… I still like _girls_ … I think. But then I-I… like…”  
  
_I like you, too, Anthony._  
  
Anthony stared up at him, biting his lip. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something and after a while, he did, “Maybe… maybe you’re bi?”  
  
Maybe.  
  
Ian shrugged and tried to breathe evenly. He was still shocked Anthony wasn’t running away or laughing at him. He cringed, thinking up of all the possible ways to continue this dreadful conversation. A good ending didn’t seem possible.  
  
“Do you l-like someone?” Anthony asked and then added lamely, “I mean, some guy …or whatever…”  
  
Ian looked cautiously at Anthony and nodded, embarrassment enveloping him.  
  
“Oh…”  
  
“Yeah…”  
  
This was awkward.  
  
“Who's the guy?” And Anthony ducked his head. “I mean, if you don’t mind me asking.”  
  
“Oh… um…” Ian debated with himself, stammering, “H-He’s… uh… You see…”  
  
“Y-You don’t _have_ to tell me, if you don’t want to…”  
  
“Ah... okay... alright.”  
  
This was _really_ awkward.  
  
A moment of stillness settled with each of them trying to say something else.  
  
Eventually, Anthony heaved a long breath, breaking the quiet. “Hey, Ian,” Anthony said hesitantly, “Look, I gotta tell you some—“  
  
“What would you do?” Ian interrupted, suddenly, so wound up in his thoughts about what just happened, to what he should do next that he hadn’t heard Anthony. He was curious and hopeful. He asked again when Anthony didn’t say anything. “What would you do if you were gay?”  
  
Anthony looked at him like a train was about to hit him.  
  
“Shit, Ian…” he stammered, blushing deep, “W-well… I’m…”  
  
“Fine,” Ian said, deciding on asking what he _actually_ intended to ask. His chest hurt so much with panic, nervousness, and fear, and he wanted to rip out the overexerting organ. “What if… what if some _guy_ liked you? Would… would you consider it?”  
  
_What if I liked you?_  
  
Ian watched Anthony expectedly and Anthony stared back, brows stitched together and face crumpled in thought, trying to decipher something. If Ian weren’t so messed up himself he would have laughed at his friend.  
  
“Well… It depends,” Anthony finally said, shrugging. He stood up and took a step towards Ian. He looked a little nervous but then as Anthony looked from his feet to Ian, a tiny glint sparkled in his eye. “Who… Who’s the guy?”  
  
“U-U-Um… ” And Ian was back to his blubbering self again, tumbling over his thoughts that needed to be transformed into actual spoken word because Anthony was close for some reason; too close as he leaned in with his citrus and hot honey scent. He had that teasing look in his eyes and Ian almost took a step back but the solidarity of Anthony’s body stopped him. “Any guy, I guess?”  
  
“C’mon, it can’t be _any_ guy.” He was oddly confident again, the wide-eyed look morphing into a suspicious one.  
  
Ian stared at Anthony’s smirk, going cross-eyed and wondering what those lips would taste like. He shook his head. “Why not?”  
  
“Because,” Anthony whispered, _whispered_ it as if the room was full of people who could overhear their conversation and what he was telling Ian was a horrible, horrible, juicy secret, “I’d only go gay for _one guy_.”  
  
Ian scoffed, trying to rid the desire that laced up his neck. “Fuck you, Anthony. I know, MacGyver, blah, blah –”  
  
“Nope,” Anthony cut in. The corner of his lip crooked and creating a dimple that Ian really wanted to touch. He was teasing, Ian knew. Maybe Anthony didn’t believe him after all.  
  
“Anthony, you bastard,” Ian warned, tilting his head in wariness, “I’m fucking serious. Don’t you mess with me, you—”  
  
“I’m not,” Anthony licked his lips and his face pressed against Ian’s ear suddenly, the bone of his cheek brushing up against the hollow of Ian’s. “I’m dead serious.”  
  
“W-what..?” Ian sputtered, feeling fingers graze the tips of his own. And then, holy shit, lips that ghosted wet on the sensitive spot between jaw and ear. Anthony’s hair feathered the corner of his eye, making Ian blink rapidly with shivers or surprise, he didn’t know.  
  
Was Anthony doing what Ian thought he was?  
  
Maybe.  
  
Then a hand pushed Ian right up against Anthony’s taller frame. And Ian was hyperaware of exactly where every part of his body touched Anthony’s because sizzling pain, or desire, or want, or _whatever_ , travelled between them. His body jumped and stiffened every time Anthony’s chest rose with breath.  
  
Oh, not maybe. Definitely.  
  
And the way Anthony inhaled his heated skin, like he was tasting him, taking Ian away. Like he _wanted_ Ian.  
  
Oh, most, absolutely-fucking, _definitely._  
  
Fingers dug deep at the small of Ian’s back, gripping hard and pulling him close. Anthony pulled back to look at Ian and he had never seen Anthony look this way in his life: eyes half lidded with a sort of predatory glint that shone bright in the darkness.  
  
Maybe Ian should run just about now. It was kind of scary.  
  
But then, so damn suddenly, soft lips lightly brushed his and Ian froze, his body going completely numb.  
  
Nah, Ian wasn’t going anywhere.  
  
It was brief, kind of like a test. It was short too, not allowing Ian much of a chance to enjoy it. And all colour seemed to have drained out of Anthony’s face as perhaps, realization of what he had done dawned on Anthony, his mouth in an open ‘o’, like he was the one who was kissed and not the other way around.  
  
But Ian was quick, sensing Anthony’s need to flee and grabbed his friend by the neck. Their foreheads bumped together harshly and Ian winced. The air between them was hot, mingled in with surprise and breathlessness.  
  
He felt Anthony swallow, eyes flickering hesitantly from Ian’s eyes to his lips. Unthinking, Ian closed the distance between them and kissed his friend again, firmly this time and pressing deep into Anthony’s mouth. He moaned softly.  
  
Ian _definitely_ liked Anthony.  
  
A lot.  
  
Anthony seemed to snap out of his brief shyness, retaliating in equal fervor and eagerness as he probed open Ian’s mouth with his tongue, bursting into the kiss with force as he thrust Ian’s body backwards. The back of his knees hit the foot of the bed and the two of them fell roughly into the plush of the mattress.  
  
Ian felt like he was drowning, the burning waters from the shower in his fantasies soaking him with desperate satisfaction. And the hands, the real solid ones that were tangled in his hair, pulsated hot molten lava right down to his crotch.  
  
Ah, sweet Jesus, this was amazing.  
  
Ian strained his neck upwards, pushing and fighting his tongue into Anthony’s mouth, losing himself and not getting enough and wanting more.  
  
Anthony pulled back slightly, blazing lips and breath right above Ian’s throbbing swollen ones and Ian’s eyes fluttered open. He took Anthony’s face in his hand, nails digging into the misty skin of his hairline as Anthony breathed harshly saying something Ian didn’t really hear.  
  
“What did you say?” Ian asked when he got his bearings again, gasping to catch his breath and loving the way Anthony’s knee dug in between his own thighs.  
  
Anthony smoothed the hair over Ian’s forehead, talking between breaths, “I said, who’s the guy?”  
  
It took a moment for Ian to comprehend what Anthony was asking, but when he did, his face broke in to a smile.  
  
“You,” Ian said, nudging his nose into Anthony’s cheek and planting a slow kiss on his friend’s lips. “ _You_ , Anthony.”  
  
Anthony laughed and Ian melted into that happy face.  
  
“You too, Ian.”


End file.
